


Paladin

by Jaeger Gipsy Danger (Carleen)



Series: Tales From the Hold [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Argis the Bulwark - Freeform, Elderscrolls Skyrim, F/M, Gen, Kahjiit, Skryrim Adventure, Skyrim - Freeform, Skyrim Adventuring, Skyrim Argis the Bulwark, Skyrim Kahjiit, Skyrim OC - Freeform, Skyrim Romance, Tales From the Hold
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-05-09 18:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5550836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carleen/pseuds/Jaeger%20Gipsy%20Danger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a collision of worlds, Argis the Bulwark and a mysterious Kahjiit meet on an isolated stretch of road near Whiterun. Through shared adventure and danger, they learn about themselves and each other. And maybe, just maybe they can be friends. Violence, adult situations and language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue Chapter 1

* * *

“Come forth, Paladins!

Fulfill your destiny!”

― Andry Chang, _Sang Pemburu_

* * *

 

**Prologue**

The cracking sound of the whip scared him as much as the pain. His father's drunken rages frightened him more. The stinking ale soaked sweat of his Father splashed on him each time the meaty arm swung the whip. Only five summers old, he'd already learned crying out would earn him as extra five lashes.

Small and quick, he could usually hide until his Father sobered up, but today was not one of those days. With his little hands tied to the back of a chair, Argis took his beating silently. Later, after his Father passed out, he would escape and run through the neglected fields of the farm. Run until his sturdy legs finally collapsed and he'd lay in the field among the rotten potatoes and watched the stars. Only then would he allow himself to cry, while he planned a better life for himself. He wouldn't be a little kid forever. Someday he'll be old enough. Someday.

The day before his tenth birthday, he found his father splayed out on the dirty stones in front of the cold fireplace. An empty cup on the floor next to his outstretched hand and the stink of vomit pooled by his mouth. His Father's eyes had that glassed-over look he'd seen on dead animals.

Argis called his father's name once, when he didn't answer, he dressed in his warmest clothes, packed a haversack of food and water. Then without a backward glance, Argis left the only home he'd ever known. It never occurred to him to ask for help. Other than the woman at the inn who made sure he had something to eat every day no one helped him before. Sneaking into town would get him sent back home by one of the guards. Small and quick he might be, but Whiterun's guards were nosy bullies who often teased him about his height. They called him Argis the Bulwark just to tease him. When he got angry and balled his fists, they merely laughed at him. He hated his drunk father, and he hated them. The burn of that hatred left scars on him no mage or salve could heal.

The gate swung on its rotten leather hinges when he kicked it open and fell into the dirt. Argis scrambled across the faded wood slates and never looked back.

Icy rain pelted him just as the sun began to climb above the mountains. Exhausted cold and hungry Argis crawled inside the entrance to a cave, curling around himself to keep warm. The jerky and thin beer sat in his stomach like dragon bones. He knew better than to enter the cave or light a fire. When the rain finally stopped, he pulled his father's sheepskin cloak from his pack and wrapped it himself in it. Tired eyes watched the horizon for predators and ears too young to listen outside the fence of his farm crept to his ears. Tears tracked down his grimy cheeks until finally he slept.


	2. My Heart is Pure

* * *

"My good blade carves the casques of men,

My tough lance thrusteth sure,

My strength is as the strength of ten

Because my heart is pure."

―Sir Alfred Tennyson, Sir Galahad (lines 1–4)

* * *

 

_**Eight Years Later** _

A Khajiit clings to life as a pale winter sun begins its descent behind the snow-capped mountains of Skyrim. She's soaked to the skin and the tips of her once golden fur are stiff with ice. Every step is agony with ice burrs tangled in the fur of her elegant feet and toes. She's a long way from the safety of a caravan or her own people. Alone and dying in this frozen wasteland with no one to note her passing. Her parents will never know what happened to their daughter, or understand why she ran away.

Three days ago, a bandit stole her food and horse. He'd come upon her while she'd been asleep. Sleeping the exhausted sleep of someone who knows they are truly lost, he'd managed to tie her down before she could defend herself. The only thing keeping him from raping her was, as he so eloquently shouted in her face, he was an Imperial and she was nothing but a mangy halfbreed. He'd hit her, just for good measure. The blow had knocked her into the stream, split her lip and chipped one of her canines. Then he rode away on her horse with everything she owned.

Two hours later, with the morning sun casting a blue haze over the land, she'd finally managed to untie herself. He didn't find the amulet she kept next to her skin. For that she was grateful. She gripped that amulet in her slender hand and kept moving.

The days and nights since that morning were tinged with terror and cold. On the second night, a pack of wolves caught the scent of her bleeding wrists. She barely managed to escape them by climbing to the top of a rocky outcropping.

Today, she's barely crawling, when the vibration of galloping horses filtered up from the dirt under her cheek. Her feet and hands automatically flex to dig her nails into the dirt to move deeper into the bushes. She doesn't have enough strength left to climb any further than into the tundra scrub on the side of the road.

_Move! Hide!_

A scree of rocks and snowberry bushes camouflage her. They pulled their horses to a stop directly across from her and she bit down on her hand to keep from crying out. What if they discovered her?

One of the men commented to his companion that he would stay on this road and make camp when it was too dark to see clearly. The dark Breton, wrapped in a turban and robes, wished him well and agreed to meet him in Markarth in a week. She watched the two men shake hands. A dog began to sniff the bushes and move toward her meager protection. This was it.

"Hund! Get over here!"

While she listened to the sound of the horses moving off, she told herself she could make it to that man's camp. The sun was almost down now. How far could he get. A mile? She could walk another mile. She could do it and she could only pray to her gods that he was a good man. It didn't matter if he were or not, because she would not survive another night out in the open. She cursed her inability to survive outside the walls of her Father's palace. She was better at sipping sugar tea and visiting with other noble children than riding a horse, or keeping herself alive in this frozen wasteland.

Her exhaustion-numbed mind begins to wander to thoughts of home. It's a small comfort and so she doesn't fight it. What harm will it do now? Dreams of warm sand and good food give her the strength to push herself to her feet. Her feet? She can't feel them anymore. Each step on the snowy stone road threatened to tumble her into the icy jagged-edged dirt and permafrost. With each step she imagined her bare feet sinking into the warm sands of Elsweyr. Just another few feet. Just one more step.

The sun is down now. But a Khajiit can see in the dark and she scans the road for signs of a campfire. But the air is empty of the scent of a horse or wood smoke and she almost weeps with despair. She realizes if she sits down, she will not get up again. So she wipes the moisture and dirt from her face, picks up the hem of her sodden dress and trudges through a haze of fat snowflakes.

In her homeland, the Spring sun ignites the mica and quartz particles in the sand. The effect is a world sparkling in the warm sun and sand. Her people call it sugar sand. In the distance, her mother waves to her from the garden gate. Just one more step and her mother will take her in her soft warm arms, take her inside and feed her supper of her favorite fish stew.

Later, after her mother listened to her say her prayers, she will help her into her large comfortable bed, pull the embroidered quilt to her chin and kiss her goodnight. Tomorrow she and her brother will go to town. Spring is her favorite time of year. The market stalls are brimming with fresh, delicious food. She and her brother will chase and play in the fragrant grass all the way to the market.

The scent of food on the snowy wind. Smoke from a wood fire. Her delicate ears prick at the sound of a dog whining.

"Is it suppertime, Mother? Your daughter is so very hungry…"

It isn't her mother who catches her, but the strong arms of her father, or maybe it's her brother. But the impatient tones are not from a voice she recognizes. Then someone lifts her off the ground and onto the bed of a wagon. When he begins to strip off her wet clothes, her eyes snap open and she realizes it isn't her father or her brother. She struggles weakly, by trying to hang on to the fabric of her dress.

"You bring out those claws Khajiit and we're gonna have a problem. I mean you no harm. Now, lay still. You're half dead. Rest and get yourself warm for a minute or two and then I'll give you some broth."

Then, before she could protest again, he finishes stripping off her wet clothes, and wrapped her tightly in wolf skins.

"Elahana is very hungry," she said faintly, her head falling back on the rough wooden boards of the wagon. It was the man from the road! Then he helped her sit up and dropped another skin over her shoulders.

"I'm sure you are. But sure as I give you some real food your stomach will toss it right back up. Here," he said gently holding her head so she could focus on drinking the water.

It was so good and she gulped greedily. "Oh, gods!" She squeaked and lunged for the side of the wagon.

He held her head while she vomited over the side.

"This one is sorry... So sorry."

"No worries. It happens. Here try a small sip of the broth."

It stayed down and she flexed her whiskers at him appreciatively.

"Don't know if that was an expression of thanks or a sneer. Keep those claws to yourself."

What did he think she was, some common Skooma junkie fighting for her next fix? She'd show him. She was a lady. So she smoothed her expression and relaxed her ears.

"Just one more sip?" She asked politely without a hint of aggression or, she hoped, fear.

He helped her tip the horn cup to her mouth, but he stopped her from taking more than a sip. "Now, now, little cat. Don't want you throwing up again. How 'bout you lay down and get some sleep? My dog will keep your backside warm."

"A dog? Filthy animal. Keep it away from me."

"You're not allowed inside the gates of any city in Skyrim, but you're too good for my Hund?" He rubbed his chin and gazed out into the snowy night and shrugged, "I could toss you back out on the road."

"No… please don't. Elahana is so sleepy. You are kind."

At the man's whistle, the giant hound obediently jumped onto the wagon. He whined in protest before rolling over on his side and placing himself against the shivering Khajiit. Tossing another skin over them both the man shook his head and turned to care for his horse.

The night turned colder as the clouds cleared and the stars shimmered in the winter sky. His worn leather tent afforded him little shelter as the wind rolled down off the mountains and found its way through every hole. It wasn't long before he was shivering too.

He gazed longingly at the wagon. Well, if his damn dog and a Khajiit could be warm, then By The Nine, so could he. Trying not to startle her, the man climbed on the wagon and stretched out next to his dog.

The next morning he opened his eyes to the glint of the morning sun shining across the snow and a bright blue sky. He shaded his eyes only to discover, not his dog sleeping next to him, but the young Khajiit. She was lying close to him with her head on his shoulder and one arm stretched across his chest. His arms were around her, with one hand on her back and the other caught in her soft fur. Her breath was slow and regular. Against his side he could feel the vibration of her purring. Satisfied she's warm enough and recovered from her ordeal he tries to slip away from her.

His movement woke her and he found a pair of startled green eyes gaze back at him.

"W-Who are you?" She asked, scrambling back away from him. While he waited for her to calm down, he noticed a few things about her that he hadn't noticed last night. One, she was beautiful with black-tipped golden fur and green eyes. Her delicately pointed ears were tufted with a black fur. Even worn out, dirty and starving, she was a beauty.

"This one wants to know who you are? Where is the caravan? Why are you traveling alone?"

"Because, I'm not a merchant. Is Elahana your name?"

"How did you know? How did I get here?"

"You told me your name, last night. You wandered into my camp, soaking wet and half dead. In fact, it was a close call as to whether you would starve or freeze to death."

"This one remembers. Elahana overheard you speaking to another man on the road. You said, you would travel until the sun went down. She decided to follow you."

"I guess you were out of options," he said seriously, noting her soft hands and bewildered expression. This was not a Khajiit accustomed to being away from the comforts of home. It's a wonder she survived as long as she had.

"Thank you for taking me in."

She looked him full in the face then and he noticed her human mouth and expressive green eyes. Not cat's eyes exactly.

"Please don't stare at me. I hate it."

"You're beautiful, Elahana."

"No," and she gestured impatiently with her hands, waving away his comment. This one is _not_ beautiful. Not in your world and not in hers."

The man stared up the road. "Is anyone chasing you?" If there was, he did not intend to get caught with her in his camp.

"No...or, I don't know. But Elahana has been on the road for four days now. A bandit stole her horse and belongings. So if anyone saw the horse, they probably followed it. If they find the bandit, he won't remember where he found me or which direction I took."

"You seem to have it all figured out," he commented, enjoying the strange lilting tones of her accent and manner of speech. Most of the Khajiits he'd met had a gravelly tone, but hers is melodic and soft.

"No, she does not have it all it all figured out. But there's no reason to be angry with her. Elahana did thank you for saving her life."

He didn't respond, simply slid off the wagon and went to the campfire. After dusting the coals from the Dutch oven he pulled from under the banked coals. She watched in amazement as he removed a steaming hot loaf of bread and the remainder of last night's stew.

Just as efficiently he pulled the stopper from two bottles of ale. While he collected their breakfast she took stock of him. For a man he appeared strong and capable of taking care of himself. Muscles bulged under his leather jerkin and simple linen shirt. His leather pants fit like a second skin to his well-formed legs. She wondered if he were an Imperial. Tall and blond he seemed every inch a Nord. With his amber eyes the same color as his dark blond hair, she wondered if he were truly a Nord.

Handing her a bowl and a bottle of ale, he jumped back up beside her.

"Name's Argis."

She eyed him from under her long lashes. "That's a Nord name. You don't look like a Nord."

"The little cat is insulting me," he commented to his dog. "I'm as true a Nord as you are a Khajiit. Now eat your breakfast, I need to get moving."

After delicately swabbing the last of the stew with a heel of bread, and thinking she was glad her mother hadn't seen her do such a rude thing, she said, "Well, since I'm not, strictly speaking, Khajiit. Does that make you a liar?"

"Aren't you the high and mighty one. Calling the one who saved your life a liar."

"This one only meant…"

"I know what you meant. I've heard all about you Khajiits and your fancy desert land. I don't agree with the Jarl outlawing your kind from the city, but you're changing my mind, little cat."

"She is not a little cat. And I only meant that you were the same as me, not really at home anywhere."

"I'm at home right here in Skyrim."

"Then why are you sneaking around with that other man? Why are you out here in the middle of winter when you could be holed up with some Whiterun doxy at the Bannered Mare?"

"Well, for someone who claims to be new in town you seem to know a lot about Whiterun. So why are you on the run?"

"None of your business!" She'd had quite enough of his rude manners and talk. "Thank you for the shelter and the food. Elahana will be on her way."

"I don't think so, little cat."

"Don't call me that again and you can't stop me!"

He folded his arms over his broad chest and smirked. "Go ahead."

She flung the furs aside and jumped off the end of the wagon. "Oh!" Wrapping her arms around her chest, she tried to hide her nudity. She hadn't realized. How could she? He'd been making her so angry.

"Get me a robe!"

Continuing to laugh at her predicament, he dug through one of the trunks until he found a robe. It was a light green robe of soft wool, trimmed in gold embroidery as fine as any from her father's craftsmen. Before he draped the robe over her he dropped a linen gown over her head. He watched it fall to her feet. He didn't need to stare at her to know she was a beauty, with her soft white skin and firm young muscles. She was wrong, any man would find her beautiful.

When his hands slowed down over her shoulders and he allowed a fingertip to glide across her delicate ear, she snatched the robe away and closed it over herself.

"Get your hands off Elahana!"

"As you wish, my lady. I'm going to wash up these dishes. That'll give you some privacy. There's boots and gloves in the bag there. I'll be back in a few minutes. Please don't steal my wagon… oh, I shouldn't worry. A fine lady such as yourself can't possibly know how to drive a wagon."

"Of course, I can drive a wagon! You're so insulting!" She stomped off to the small creek to freshen up. After washing the mud and ice from herself, she noticed the small salmon swimming idly in the shallow water. Quick as any cat, her right hand shot out and snared a fat one. Just as quickly, two more joined the first one on the bank. She secured her robe and pulled on the boots before she strung the fish together and headed back to the wagon.

Argis paused from hitching the horse to watch her walking toward him. Her pale blond hair hung in waves down her back. The robe clung to her womanly curves and he wondered about her age. He'd never seen a Khajiit exactly like her. Well, he reminded himself, as he went back to securing the horse to the wagon, she obviously didn't want to talk about it. He'd find out eventually and for a while, at least until they made Markarth, he'd let her travel with him.

He finally noticed what she carried in her hands.

"Where did you get the fish?"

"I stole them from the Sabre Cat back there by the stream," she shot back and kept walking.

Maybe he should give her a few coins and send her on her way. Her smart mouth and imperious manner was about to get her in trouble. Damn her. The more he thought about her behavior the angrier he got. And he would tell her so. He jumped off the wagon he grabbed her by the arms.

"Look, little cat. You've got a hell of a notion about how to say thank you."

"This one already thanked you and caught our dinner. Elahana planned to make fish stew for you," she said, glaring at him and yanking her arm from his grasp. The angry movement of her arm accidentally raked her nails across this forearm. Blood quickly welled up between the torn remnants of his linen shirt sleeve.

"SHOR'S Stone! You'll pay for this!" He swung his arm around as if to backhand her.

The fish landed forgotten on the ground. She dropped instinctively into battle stance and flexed her hands. What the man saw was no longer simple nails, but claws extended from powerful looking paws. The claws on her feet split the thin leather of her lady's boots. Her face widened into a snarl and her breath hissed a cloud of vapor around her head.

"Think what you like about me Nord, but do not make the mistake of thinking this one cannot defend herself."

Raising his hands he tried a smile, "Elahana, before you spill my guts, can I ask one question?"


	3. Follow Your Heart

 

* * *

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition." ―Steve Jobs"

* * *

"Lower your arm, Nord," the words she hissed were not an invitation.

He wisely did as she ordered and lowered his arms with his palms open and out to his side. He tried a smile and some of his normally well-received wit.

"I warned you about those claws... I'm sorry. I would never hurt you. So tell me how you came to be blond as a Nord and yet look like a Khajiit?"

By the flicker of her green eyes and the crease of a frown line between her eyes, he knew he'd hit a sore spot. Then her ears swiveled back against her head.

"You are correct; you will not hurt me. Is your comment an attempt to intimate? Your snarl lacks a certain bravado and your small round teeth wouldn't frighten a Khajiit kit."

With a glance at her hands, he noticed she showed no sign of pulling in her claws. He tried to keep in mind that she was obviously young, frightened and away from home for the first time. The most dangerous thing to do with a wild animal was to look them in the eye.

"Let's try again, Elahana." Using her name this time, he deliberately he cast his eyes to the ground. "I saw the bruises and split lip. Looks like he hit you pretty hard. Did he chip your tooth as well?"

Nodding to him with sad eyes, beginning to glisten in the morning sun, he watched her fold in on herself. This was his chance and he took it.

"What do you say to a simple business agree..."

The change in his tone brought her head up and she watched his eyes widen. For no reason she could discern he'd stopped talking. Resisting the urge to turn around, she thought it might be just a trick to catch her off guard. Then her sharp ears caught the sound of something moving through the air. Then he dove for her, grabbing her around the waist and dragging her to the ground. The weight of his body on hers brought her back feet up in defense. He felt the pressure of her claws on his belly.

"Don't fight me cat, or we'll both be dead! Is that amulet still around your neck?"

"How did you know…"

"Cat!"

"Yes, I have it!"

Her hissing response almost made him flinch, because he almost expected to feel those sharp teeth sink into this neck.

"I'm going to move toward the wagon. The horse is not completely harnessed. You stay right here. In just a few moments I'll ride past. Be ready to climb up. One chance, little cat. Ready?"

While the sound of angry voices and running feet crunching branches echoed through the trees. Arrows rained down around them. The weather was on Argis' side for once, because the fresh deep snow slowed their advanced. With any chance of a surprise attack gone, Argis used the conditions to his advantage.

Then his weight is off her and he's moving low and fast to the horse. Tossing a satchel across his chest, he yanked the horse out of the traces and swung aboard. The horse crow-hopped at the rough treatment. Its peeling whinny nearly shook the snow off the branches.

Crouching low, Elahana gathered herself. Argis is galloping toward her. Their eyes meet. But the churning horses hooves scared her a little and she hung back. The voices are so close now and there is no way of knowing their intent.

"Now!"

She leapt upwards just as he grabbed her arm. Argis swung her in front of him.

"Hold on to me!"

She did as she was told and hide her face against his chest.

"Good. Make yourself as small a target as possible. Hang on!"

She didn't dare watch, but she felt the horse leave the ground as Argis jumped the horse across the stone snow barrier at the side of the road. The woods engulfed them as he encouraged the horse into the protective gloom of the deep forest.

They kept that pace until the sun began to set again. She'd even dozed off once and when she woke he soothed her back against his chest. "Back to sleep, little cat."

"Please do not call me that. I'm not a child."

Long leather-clad fingers carded up through her hair and pulled her head back. Blinking to focus her sleep filled eyes, she saw dark storm clouds shrouding him from behind. The effect darkened his eyes and she could not interpret the look on his face.

"Who were those men? Are you angry?" She ventured.

"Far from it. I like the way you fit..." he stopped himself, because he had no right to say such things to her. Instead of sharing those thoughts, he pulled the exhausted horse to a stop. There were hot springs nearby and fresh water for the animals. They'd been running all day. Hund required no urging, he simply threw himself down in the shallows and lapped at the cold creek water. Argis slid off first and turned around to assist her down when she simply fell into his arms.

"Sorry! I didn't realize I was so stiff!"

"It's all right. No harm done, he said, tilting her toward himself to strengthen his grip on her lithe body. Trust me?"

"I'm afraid not. You haven't explained the presence of those men. Why are they chasing you?"

"Maybe they were chasing you? At any rate, we have outrun them for the moment." He continued walking and ignoring her question. "What do you think? Time for a good soak?"

A steaming pool beckoned her tired muscles and dirty hair.

"Let this one down please." Once on her feet, she stepped away from him. Turning her back, she artlessly removed the robe and spread it over a nearby rock. Behind her, she heard him whistle low.

"Have I done something…? Oh, I should have waited. My brother and I swim…" She could hear herself stuttering.

"I'm not your brother, little cat."

"Indeed, you are not! Go away and leave me some privacy!"

"Aye, that I will," and he strode angrily away. Angry at himself for being caught out in the open like that and angry at her for being the cause of it. A shallow pool beckoned and he shrugged off his filthy clothes and waded in.

"Hund! Watch!"

Satisfied the dog is on patrol and would bark a warning at any danger, Argis sank gratefully into the hot water. Gods, he was tired. He felt as if he'd been tired and angry for ever. Certainly since before the winter. The wagon and horse he'd found on the side of the road. The original owner lay in a pool of his own frozen blood. The poor horse had been nearly dead from dehydration and hunger. The bandits had wrecked the back of the wagon in their haste to grab all the loot they could carry. The valuable horse was left to fend for itself. But it couldn't move the broken wagon. So there it stood, shivering in the cold where he found it. It was a wonder that wolves hadn't taken him down. Once he'd gotten the horse loose, he found a large dog suddenly at his side. The dog was also cold and shivering with several bite marks on his back. The dog must be the reason the horse had survived this long.

Someone must have been looking out for him that day, because he'd found a satchel of dried fruit and a brace of rabbits hidden under the driver's seat. And, gods be praised, one dusty old bottle of Nord Ale. The dog had howled appreciatively when he lifted the seat and retrieved the rabbits. It was then he noticed the scratch marks on the wood. The dog had been trying to get to the rabbits too.

An hour later, with the horse watered and staked out on a patch of tender grass, the dog and he shared the warmth of a fire and the meat off the bones of two lean winter rabbits. He didn't have answers, but it was good not to be alone anymore.

In the morning, he fixed wagon and with the dog at his side they began a journey. Since that day, the trio had traveled the roads of Skyrim. He took work where he could find it, but always left town before anyone questioned him too closely. The guards always gave him a lookover. With his dark blond hair and eyes, no one took him for a Nord and he quickly discovered, Nords were a suspicious bunch.

The mines were always looking for workers. Sometimes a townsperson or a guard would give him some short-term work. Gradually, he'd collected a nice bow and quiver. By picking up stray arrows or the occasional discarded or unguarded - he was no thief - bit of weapon or armor which he could sell in town. All of which meant he could keep the three of them from starving. He kept his head down, remained open and friendly to everyone he met. Until the day, a Khajiit stumbled into his camp he'd been content.

Fingers on his injured forearm roused him from his musings. Why hadn't the damn dog barked? Damn useless mutt! Without opening his eyes, he flipped the intruder over and into the water with him. With its arms firmly pinned behind its back, he forced it against the opposite bank. Instead of the hard muscles of a man, his naked body connected with a the soft clinging fabric of wet linen over supple curves. His body responded before he even realized what he'd done.

"Argis!" She gasped. "...can't breathe. It's me."

"What are you about, Cat! I could have killed without thinking twice about it." Then he flipped her around, but when he released his grip on her she slid under the water. The wet linen scraping across his aroused body only fueled his lonely state. After nearly throwing her into the shallow end of the small pool, he turned his back on her. Dug his fingers into the dirt shoreline and tried to pull himself together.

The Khajiit stood slowly and backed away. She'd only tried to help, even apologize. No matter what she did, he was angry.

"I-I'm sorry. You were asleep. The scratches on your arm needed tending. Elahana is sorry. Are you injured further? Feverish? I was afraid we'd left it too long."

"For the love of… just get away from me! And, dress yourself!"

And so she did as she was told. Before she walked back to their small fire she left the small bit of healing salve she'd managed to collect next to his hand.

After she pulled the robe on, she sat down by the fire to comb out her long hair. It felt good to be clean, but Argis' anger confused her. Her instincts told her not to trust him and she always listened to her instincts. It was after all, the first lesson every kit learned.

Hund raised his head from Elahana's lap when his master approached. Dressed, with his long hair in wet tangles to his shoulders, he just stared into the fire. She stood slowly, unsure and a little frightened.

It was a long time before he spoke to her. "I'm offering to keep you with me while we travel. You'll provide cover for me and we can protect each other."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"Because, little... Elahana, we obviously both have secrets to keep. I promise to protect you and your secret. Will you make the same promise?"

Without actually answering his question, she replied, "I'll dress your wounds if you clean the fish."

Taking a cautious step toward her, he said quietly, "I'll clean the fish if you promise to make that fish stew you mentioned."

"I'll need some wild onions and mushrooms, but I don't know what you call them here in Skyrim. And some garlic."

They stood within a foot of each other now. Trying to look down into her face to interpret her expression, she suddenly turned her green eyes on him. He drew a sharp breath. A man could get lost in those eyes. A man could begin to feel he might take on the responsibility to protect green eyes filled so deep with sadness.

"I saw you shake hands - is that what you call it - with that man. Should we shake on our business agreement?"

"If you wish it," and he held out his right hand and she carefully laid her fingers down on his palm. It was enough for now. And there in the road, a day's journey from Whiterun, the Khajiit, and the Nord made an uneasy peace. Before he sat down with her by the fire, he did something he never imagined himself doing. He made a promise to himself. He promised to protect her and he was surprised when he realized he meant to keep it.

With her free hand, she offered him the only other personal item she had left to her. Finally, their eyes met as he accepted the comb from her.


	4. Reason and Love

* * *

 "And yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays." ― William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

* * *

She tucked her feet under her and watched him comb out his long hair. The length annoyed him, she could tell. Although she knew nothing about cutting hair. She did know a thing or two about keeping it out of her face. She handed him a leather strip. "Here. Pull your hair back and tie it with this."

He did it and smiled at her when he finished. "Now why didn't I think of that before. Thank you."

"You don't know who those men are, do you?" She asked quietly after he'd finished and handed her back the comb.

He gazed at her over the low fire. If they were ever going to learn to count on each other, it was time for some truth. He shook his head and tossed a stick into the fire, "No, little cat. I don't know."

"If you're a wanted man, the town guards would recognize you. They do not hesitate a moment to hold my kind back under any suspicion they care to name."

"I've seen it. The only people treated worse than the Khajiit are the dark elves."

She nodded sadly, "Elahana cannot disagree with that. Civil war, famine in the north and in my country, Imperial interference and everywhere there is tension among the races."

"Don't forget about the vampires." Then he realized what she said, "So you're a Stormcloak then?"

"I don't know enough about Skyrim politics to say, but I've heard many in Skyrim wish the Imperial yoke removed from the necks of the Nords."

"Well, said. We should get some sleep. May I join you under that overhang... Hund and I?"

She blushed and he saw it. "Perhaps not. Elahana did not understand at first. Could not figure out why she made you angry."

"I'm sorry. Elahana, have you ever been lonely?" He moved close to her and raised her face to his with a finger.

"Yes, I know what it means to be lonely. This one knows very well and she is sorry you must feel this way too. If I were older. I might know what to do. This one enjoys the feeling of Argis' arms around her. But she doesn't want to make him angry again."

Her words were gentle and kind and it calmed him. The hot blood ebbed and cooled in his body. She was an innocent and she needed his protection. So he put his back against the fire-warmed rock face and pulled her between his legs.

"Lay back. Sleep now."

She didn't fight him and leaned back against him with her arms around his waist. Her head lay just below his chin. By the Nine, she felt good in his arms. Although he ached with need, to take her would both frighten her and turn their trust to hatred. He didn't think he could take that look on her face. So Argis stilled himself, wrapped his arms around her and fell asleep with his nose in her hair.

"When Elahana is older she will know what to do," she whispered against his shoulder and drifted off.

Argis chuckled, "Didn't think you really understood what you meant by a doxy," and he added quietly, "I'm glad." before he smoothed her hair back from her cheek and tightened his grip on her. Tomorrow would be soon enough to find answers.

The tired horse edged closer to the people and dropped his head low. He blew softly through his nose and let his ears go slack. Hund turned around several times before he could find a spot where he could be in contact with both people before finally laying down. And in this ring of security and haven, they slept peacefully through the long Skyrim night.

Elahana woke slowly to the smell of meat sizzling on fire. Hund whimpered and his tail thumped against her foot. With her head on Argis' satchel, she lay curled up on the grass. But the grass was wet with dew as the sun melted the frost. She shivered and sat up.

Argis squatted by the fire with just his pants on. His well muscled torso bare to her gaze and blushed when she realized she was staring.

"Do you like what you see, little cat?" He teased.

Her blush grew hot and spread into her face. "The food smells good."

He grinned at her, enjoying for the moment and seeing her flustered. "Hund and I came upon a fresh kill. Two wolves were so busy fighting over the deer carcass they forgot about this nice haunch. So Hund and I borrowed it. Didn't we?"

"I wish we could go back and retrieve your cooking equipment."

"Until I figure things out, it's just not safe to go back. I miss that Dutch oven too. But we'll make due."

He finished cooking while she braided her hair. Before he joined her under the rock ledge he pulled on his shirt and jerkin. After gallantly offering her the choicest portion he looked at her seriously.

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Have you figured things out?"

Her green eyes flashed at him.

"That pretty blush of yours is getting to be a regular thing, little cat."

Quickly getting to her feet, she headed toward the stream to wash her face and hands. She tried her best to ignore him, but his presence in the short time they'd known each other, come to mean something to her. He'd promised to keep her safe and he had. He'd promised to let her travel with him. And he acknowledged her secret and up until now hadn't pressed her about it.

She finished washing and straightened her robe and hair. When she turned around he was right behind her. So deep in thought, she walked right into him.

Argis caught her face in his hands and ran his thumb over her lower part of her mouth. "I'm not the first person to find a Khajiit desirable, am I?"

"Please don't."

He'd watched her for two days. There might be more to her secret than what he could see with his own eyes. But what he could see and what he must finally acknowledge hit him like a blow from a cave bear's paw.

Argis felt his heart expand toward her, encompassing her with his regard and respect. Had they kept it from her all her life? Kept the secret until the child began to grow up. Long blond hair, a woman's body, eyes that were not quite Khajiit, fur so fine and thin her pale Nord skin showed through. A body changing out of her control and betraying her until no one could deny the truth. Had they kept her hidden or banished her?

"I'm sorry, Elahana."

Sorry, because no one would want her. He knew enough to know, she could never be a mother. She'd never get her first kiss or be sought after by a mate. All because the prejudices of this land dictated the races stay separate. In Markarth the dark elves lived in filthy slums, the Khajiit lived hand to mouth outside the city walls. Unwelcome everywhere and defended by no one.

"I don't need your pity." One very large tear rolled over his thumb.

"I give none. But, may I give you this?"

"What?" When she raised her head to look up at him. She watched his face lower over hers. His amber eyes were serious and deep with intensity. She almost took a step back.

Then his lips touched her mouth and he closed her eyes with gentle fingers. Her whiskers twitched in response and tickled his palm. But he was careful of her whiskers and her ears and instead of touching her head at all, he plunged his fingers into her platinum blonde mane.

The scent and taste of him overwhelmed her delicate senses. She made a little mewling sound and swayed against him. This thing he was doing to her lite a fire deep inside. When he began to whisper in her ear, she leaned her head back into his hands.

"You are so beautiful in the morning sun, little cat. Your hair glitters like ice, yet soft and warm like silk."

He opened his mouth wider and slanted his lips across her muzzle and drank her in. She was inhaling his scent through her small nose as he kissed her. Her presence and her acceptance of him filled an aching hole in his heart. She was brave and scared all at the same time. She should be home with her family. He was her home now and she was his. But there would be much for him to apologize for in a few minutes.

"Ela..."

Just as lost in the moment as Argis, Elahana tried to copy his movement by opening her own mouth. When he followed her lead and deepened the kiss his tongue flicked across her chipped canine and they tasted his blood. The growl that emerged from her belly vibrated along his flesh. Her nails involuntarily flexed against the muscles of his back. It was painful and surprising, but he didn't cry out. Only only pulled her closer and buried his face in her sweet scented neck.

Then her hands began to flex and open. In another moment she would capture him against her, in preparation for what, she did not know. Something was driving her now. When her lips pulled back in a sneer and the growl erupted from her throat, she felt wild and out of control. She wanted something... ached to hunt for it and control the process.

The man was in danger. This man who had shown her nothing but kindness was in danger. And because she knows this moment is not for her, just as the man is not for her. Because she is young enough to still be confused by her passion, she held her feral instincts in check long enough to push him away.

They fell to their knees several feet from each other. Blood soaked through his shirt darkening the leather of his jerkin. His breathing is harsh and out of control.

Elahana fell to the ground and wept.

It took him a long time to calm down enough to look up at her. He'd loved women before, of course, he must have. But nothing compared to the fire of her embrace. Gods forgive him, he wanted the pain. He wanted to be hers and belong to her. To be her mate for life. For he knew that is what Khajiits did. With a cry of despair, he knew compared to even her inexperienced passion he could never be with her, never provide for her, never be what a male Khajiit… He pounded his fist into the permafrost, cutting his hand on the sharp ice.

"Elahana… forgive…" He looked up, to find what he hoped was forgiveness, but she is gone.


	5. ...make a heaven out of hell

* * *

“I'll follow thee and make a heaven out of hell,  
To die by your hand which I love so well.”  
―William Shakespeare, _A Midsummer Night's Dream_

* * *

 

The sound of him calling urged her into action. Fear and instinct drove her scrambling over rocks and tundra. Away from the man, the embrace, and the voice still calling, as it echoed through the golden birch forest.

"Elahana!"

Hidden for a moment within a stand of aspen trees panting in short, frantic breaths she risked a look back. His plaintive call sent a frisson of fear across her limbs and set her quivering. She must keep moving. Before she set off again, she shook herself to erase the memories of his violent embrace. It didn't work. Had her response been instinctive or the reaction of a child? That throbbing need still hummed in her veins and pushed her away from the man called Argis. Away from the kind man, who saved her life and whose only crime was to admire her and press his mouth to hers.

The sound of horse's hooves churning through the underbrush sent her moving. Quickening her pace, she clambered up a sheer rock face. He could not track her over the rocks, and he must not catch her. She cannot face him again. What had he done to her? By pressing his lips against hers, he stirred something she didn't understand. And she must know before it happened again because she almost hurt him. Her body recognized it, but she did not understand the hot blood commanding her to take mastery over him in some strange manner or the whisper in her mind, encouraging her to submit.

  
The rising sun darkened her path so that she chased her own shadow. The edge of a cliff brought her up short. So frantic in her attempt to escape her fears she nearly slid over the edge. Once she caught her breath the way down was evident. By jumping from one small ledge to the next, she could make her way down the cliff face. At the bottom lay a narrow ravine. Above her, a cataract plunged straight down to the valley floor. At her feet lay a pool of churning water. By jumping from the rock ledge into the water, she left no track for him to follow. He would give up the chase soon. He must. Carefully descending to the next level, the lower cataract rumbled in her ears and sprayed her with mountain run-off as she climbed down beside it to the valley floor below.

"Little cat!"

His voice came to her so clearly, he might have been standing directly above her. It startled her, and she almost lost her footing. The surge of survival instinct that helped her decide to leave him began to subside. In its wake, only the weight of exhaustion and a strange sorrow over the decision to leave him crept up on her. It pulled at her, and she almost keened with the loss.

_Please stop following me, Argis. Please._

Muddy with fatigue her thoughts turn back on themselves. The swirl of emotions taunted her for leaving the safety of Argis and his animals. Without the horse and dog, she reasoned, she can move faster through the countryside. Hide in places they cannot. Argis could travel more safely without her. And hopefully, soon, the pain in her heart would heal. She's no longer a kit, she's stronger now and no longer afraid of the sound of every snapping twig or footstep.

A final leap put her at the bottom of the lowest cataract. The green valley, so different from the snowy hills above is sweet with the scent of wildflowers. The warm sun and soft grass called to her tired limbs. At the bottom of the waterfall, she found a satchel lying against a tree. Her whiskers twitched with anticipation. To her delight, the satchel contained four apples, enough dried beef to last a week or more, two rabbit haunches and a venison chop. A treasure for the runaway Khajiit. Her eyes closed as she tore into the rabbit.

Later, after taking a drink from the snow-fed creek, she lay down beneath a small stand of granite rocks behind a row of tundra cotton. Elahana's tired body gave a shuddering sigh, and crystal tears fell unheeded from her eyes. Regret rose, and she wept into her fur.

The sun stood high in the sky when she awoke. In Skyrim, the forests and tundra teem with life. Evening on the valley floor brought out the carnivores. With such an abundance of life, except for the oldest or youngest, no animal had to go hungry. Her keen senses woke her to the sour smell of a bear, and the sound of movement instinctively brought out her claws.  
She attacked out of fear and training, both had quickened her reflexes. Her paw left a streak of blood on the bear's face. The sow reared back in surprise when the dinner she picked out for herself and cubs began to fight back. She shook her massive head to clear the blood from her vision, lowered her head and prepared to charge. Elahana backed herself against a stand of granite. The Khajiit was no match for her size and weight, and she could not survive the impact.

The bear charged. The ground beneath Elahana's feet shook with the sow's rage. She readied herself. When the hot, sour breath of the bear reached her nose, she jumped. Straight into the air, she landed on the ledge above the enraged bear. Confidant of her attack, yet enraged and unable to stop her forward motion, she plowed straight into the rock face. Stunned for a moment, the bear stood shaking its massive head.

A warrior astride a dapple-gray stallion appeared against the sky. "Move, Khajiit! Move while she's confused."

  
Striking with her long red braid and glowing weapons. Her commanding presence and an authoritative voice called again. This time Elahana heard her words clearly and began to move toward her before she could finish the sentence.

"Move! How many times do I have to say it?"

When she came within reach of the woman, the Nord turned her horse and shouted angrily.

"Follow me! We need to get away from that sow. She's got cubs. I don't want to kill her." She put her well-muscled horse to the steep side of a rocky hill. They climbed from ledge to ledge. When the warrior finally stopped, they were on a rise that afforded them the safety of a good vantage point to watch for danger. Safe for the time, Elahana straightened her dress and watched the young woman dismount.

"This one thanks you for the assistance. I am new in this land and have much to learn."

"You'd better learn it quick, Khajiit. Not knowing can get you killed."

The Nord woman's words came out sharp and quick. The woman is angry. Angry with Elahana?

"Elahana does not understand your anger," she inquired politely with ears and whiskers still.

"I'm not angry at all," the woman replied with a loud sigh and dropped to a sitting position on the ground. After rummaging in her pack, she came up with a baked potato. Splitting it open, she offered half to the Khajiit.

"Come on, sit down. I'm not angry or dangerous. Just tired and frustrated."

The warrior watched her carefully as she joined her on the ground. Elahana tucked the dirty hem of her dress under her feet. The watchful eyes filled her with dread. What if this warrior with hair the color of sunrise turned on her? From under her lashes, she studied the woman's face. She told herself that strangers always judged others. After all, in Skyrim enemy or alley was not always obvious. Still, she hates being stared and looked away.

"You look kind of young to be so far from home. Who are you running from?" Her voice is pitched quiet and gentle, like Argis'. But she must not acknowledge how much she missed him and pushed it away. And kindness comes with its own responsibilities. She cannot take it on. She doesn't have the strength for that.

Her voice is pitched quiet and gentle, like Argis'. But she must not acknowledge how much she missed him and pushed it away. And kindness comes with its own responsibilities. She cannot take it on. She doesn't have the strength for that.

  
"No one." Quickly focusing on handing the warrior slices of meat from her pack. She must acknowledge the fact that of all the things she's learned out here, lying is now one more.

  
"Really? This is what I see. Your dress is dirty, but the fabric is expensive. That embroidery rivals any I've seen. Except for your feet and teeth, you have no weapons. No disrespect, but melee does not always work. You need something for long-range targets. And around here it's almost always wise to soften your target up with a few arrows."

  
"I do not know how to use a bow and arrow."

  
She stared at the Khajiit in disbelief. "I don't mean to scare you, but you're going to get killed out here."

  
"Would you consider…" Elahana stopped herself and willed her claws back in their sheath. This one seems trustworthy, yet, so had Argis. She cursed her inexperience. Running away from Elsweyr had been an emotional decision. No more the scared kit, she must take responsibility for herself and learn survival skills. "...teaching Elahana?"

  
The woman appeared to consider the idea. "I tell you what. I'm on my way to that village over there to clear a wild animal from someone's house. If you help me, I'll give you whatever we find lying around, and you can come back to Whiterun with me. I'll share the pay with you. Then you can get yourself kitted out. Do you even know any magic?"

  
Ashamed of her naivete, she shook her head, "This one is young."

  
"Obviously. I know you're a runaway. I understand. I ran away from home, too. Can you ride?"

"Yes, Elahana can ride a horse."

She shook her head, "The drivers will not allow a Khajiit on their wagon. Elahana has learned that much. And if they see that you intend to purchase a horse for a Khajiit they will refuse the sale."

"Talos! This is a strange land. Well, there's no help for it. Up you go."

  
As they rode along, the warrior explained she was a member of a group of fighters known as The Companions. An organization, even she, in her ignorance, had heard about. In Cyrodiil they were called The Fighters Guild, here in Skyrim, the honored group was known as The Companions.

"And anyone can join?" Perhaps that's where she belonged? The warrior made it seem like a place where honor and courage meant more than the look of your face or location of birth. When Elahana began to relax, she ventured a question. “Does the warrior have a name?”

“I am Vika of Riften.”

That sounded like a friendly name, and the horse's stride across the land was sure and long. In the warmth of the midday sun, she fell asleep, with her head against the warrior's leather-clad shoulder. What a strange pair we make, she thought as she watched the inquisitive little foxes take a broad circle around the horse and riders.

Vika responded to Elahana's questions, and her tales of adventuring passed the time. And it occurred to her as they laughed over the behavior of a man named Farkas, someone she called her shield brother, that she was lonely too.

  
They didn't stop to make camp until the moons were high in the sky. Working in companionable silence, Elahana gathered water and pulled a simple meal from the saddle bag. They settled down to eat around the warm fire. When they'd eaten their fill, Vika opened a second bottle of mead.

"Let's hear it. What's your story?"


End file.
